Cybil didn't remember exactly how she left the lab, or how she got outside; the only thing on her mind was her mission. She needed only to locate the nearest medical facility. After observing the city layout from afar, her mind was off to the races. She quickly ascertained the quickest route to her destination and made her way to it. Sprinting with nearly supernatural speed, she darted and weaved around the labyrinth of buildings, making little stops to rest along the way (because even she needed to rest).
She entered the pharmacy she'd targeted without a sound, keeping her eyes peeled for her objective or anything that would hinder it. She flinched when she heard a voice.
"You! G-get out of here, before I call the police!"
An old man emerged. Cybil immediately recognized the anger and fear in his eyes. She didn't even need a threat assessment to see the bat in his hands, either.
She made her move, quickly disarming the man and wrapping her arms around him. He didn't even get to scream before she put him out of commission via sleeper hold. After a little more searching, she found the equipment she needed. Her eyes lingered on the man for an unusual amount of time. Why this bothered her at all, she couldn't fathom. After all, this man was merely an obstacle, an impediment to her mission, right? Finally managing to pull her eyes away, she took her leave.
Later on, as Cybil was tending his wounds, James noticed something that made his heart soar: she seemed to put an inordinate amount of care into what she did. To him, the hands that were now icing his disabled arm didn't seem like those of a living weapon: they seemed like those of a sweet girl. Acting on his welling emotions, he decided to talk to her.
"You know, you're very good at this."
A familiar silence cast itself over the pair, but he pushed himself to keep going.
"I… I know you can hear me… deep inside there. You're in a rough situation. It can happen to the best of us. Just do what they say, just for a little while longer."
James would've sworn up and down that Cybil's hand shook slightly in response. Was she nervous? Scared? Or maybe he just imagined it.
"Just hang on. You'll get your chance someday. Then you'll be able to live life. Breathe air. Just like your brothers and sister."
A wave of surprise hit Cybil at that moment, and she had to work to keep from physically reacting. Emotion had overtaken her for a split second. How? It was never required as part of her missions, but this time she couldn't fully quell it.
He took his chance as soon as he saw the look on her face. He had to tell her now, if only to give her some hope.
"Yes. You have siblings, and despite everything, they're still alive. I couldn't kill them… It didn't matter to me what these thugs said or thought. They all have families now, people that love them for who they are, not for what they were, or how they look. Would you like to hear about them?"
Cybil may have been physically tending dutifully to James's wounds, but her eyes begged for the information.
"I figured as much." The scientist grunted as his arm was elevated. With a deep breath, he began.
"There was the first, or I guess I should say technically the oldest. He was molded in the image of a small African American boy. He was meant to be a spy that could infiltrate places and gather information of interest to the people that are using you, using us. Problem was, I couldn't even properly keep him in a human shape. After a lot of man-hours, I managed to construct headgear of sorts that would keep him together. Heh, I called it a 'crown' in my notes… He couldn't afford to be without it. That's probably why they rejected him.
"I'd named him Tyrone because, with that crown on, he looked just like a little king. He has similar abilities to yourself, But in order to aid him on his missions, I gave him a gift, a 'quirk', you might say."
Cybil looked at him inquisitively.
James didn't seem to notice, as he was wrapped in his memory. "Everything he's ever heard, seen, or read is permanently etched into his brain. In other words, he's got an eidetic memory. Knowing that, it's probably a good thing that I wiped it before I put him up. He doesn't need to remember something like this."
The super-agent stayed silent, but her face was a melting pot of sadness, pity, longing, and… curiosity. She had long finished dealing with the arm, and now simply stood there, staring.
James looked away, shaking away the memories. "You should… get back to Fuller," he said, referring to the man who supervised his projects. "You've been gone too long. We wouldn't want them to suspect something."
She turned to walk away.
She stopped in her tracks and turned around.
"Do you regret knowing what I've told you?"
In reality, it was such a subtle gesture, but to James, it meant the world. She, ever so slightly, shook her head no.
The smile that curled his lips was the most genuine one he'd had in a long time.
"You're just like Marcia, you know that? I'll tell you more whenever I can."